


A Letter to say Goodbye

by moonwillow27458



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depressed Sam Winchester, Depression, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Sam-Centric, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Teenage Sam, Worried Dean, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10658580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonwillow27458/pseuds/moonwillow27458
Summary: Sam didn't know what to write. Suicide notes were tricky





	A Letter to say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a death fic, but it does feature suicide idealisation, a graphic suicide attempt, and no clean resolution at the end. Please don't read if you think any of this will be triggering.
> 
> That being said, this was written as therapy for your friendly author as I have being going through tough times lately and this is a very cathartic way of dealing with this (sorry Sammy)

Sam didn't know how to start the letter. He'd never imagined it would be this hard. In his head, he'd made a hundred drafts, he knew exactly what he wanted to say. The letter he'd written for his Dad to read hadn't nearly been this hard. Maybe because he wasn't as close with his Dad as he was Dean, maybe because he knew Dad was already disappointed in him and one final mistake wouldn't make a difference. Dean was different. What could he say to his brother? How could he explain himself?

_Dear Dean,_

Sam crossed it out. It sounded so impersonal, like he was writing to a stranger, not to his brother and best friend. He tried again.

_Dean. I'm sorry_

No, that was wrong. Sam wasn't sorry, not like Dean would want him to be. He needed to do this, and he wouldn't regret it, not even a little bit.

_Dean. I'm gonna miss you, I really am_

That much was true, Sam would miss his brother. Well not really, he couldn't miss Dean where he was going. He'd read once that all suicides go to Hell, but Sam wasn't so sure. Had he really done anything bad enough to warrant going to Hell? God loved all of his children, so why would he punish one of them for being sad? Disgruntled, Sam screwed up the piece of paper and tossed it in the trash. Why was this so hard?

Sam ripped out a fresh sheet of paper from his maths workbook.

_Dean, this is gonna suck for you, I can't lie. I'm know I'm being selfish, but I'm not sorry. I can't deal with this anymore, the life on the road and arguing with Dad. I know we aren't a normal family, but come on! Even you have to admit some of the stuff we do is jacked. I just can't do it anymore._

God, that just sounded like he was blaming Dean. Sam was a sucky brother. He was an awful son and a terrible hunter but _fuck_ he was the worst fucking brother. This wasn't Dean's fault, not in the slightest. Dean was the only one keeping Sam sane at this point.

He crossed the entire thing out and started again.

_Dean, I just can't do this anymore. I haven't been happy in a long time, and I can't do it. I love you._

That sounded about right. Sam couldn't write anymore, it was too exhausting. He needed to get on and do it, Dean would be home any minute, and he needed to leave himself enough time to actually bleed out. He couldn't have Dean walk in on him or he'd stop him.

Sam left the letters, one for Dad and one for Dean, on Dean's bed. He'd packed all his things away neatly, he'd cleaned the motel room. There was no loose ends, Sam was completely and utterly done.

He didn't bother locking the door to the bathroom, he wouldn't need the privacy when he was dead. Instead, he closed it gently, a soft good bye to the world. He took a hesitant step into the bath tub, he remembered first getting to the motel and seeing the mould ridden tub and joking with Dean that he wouldn't even want to shower in there. This was much more than showering, this was Sam's final resting place. He'd made sure to clean it with the rest of the room. 

Shaky hands held up a rusty knife. Sam tried, _he tried_ , to split his wrist but he his hand slipped and he ended up scratching his wrist. It wasn't deep and there wasn't any red and Sam had fucked it like he'd fucked everything else. He tried again, dragging the knife vertically down his wrist. It stung, God it stung, but this is what he wanted. 

"Sammy?" Fuck. Dean was home early; Sam hadn't heard the Impala drive up or even heard the door go but that was the unmistakable gruffness of Dean's voice. Fuck fuck _fuck_. "Sam?" Dean called out again. 

Sam was fucked. Blood was pouring out of his wrist, but not fast enough. Sam wasn't even sure he'd caught the right vein, shouldn't this be the easy way out? He heard Dean shrug off his jacket and then the sound of keys dropping on the table. It was only a matter of time before Dean realised what was going on.

There it was, the blatant paper rustle. Dean had found the letter.

"Sammy!" It was more urgent this time, Sam could tell. Time seemed to be slowing down, everything seemed fuzzy and sluggish and dull. Everything except for Dean's voice. Dean's voice was still strong and sturdy and exactly like Dean. There was something banging on the door, the handle rattling and then Dean was in front of him.

"Sammy."

"D'n?"

"Sammy, oh thank God," Dean sighed in relief. He pulled Sam close to him and held him there. "I thought I was too late, Sammy. You had me worried there." Sam groaned, that wasn't what he wanted. He never wanted Dean worried, not where he could see it.

Dean carried him out of the bathroom and dropped him on the bed. He began pacing the room, he was making Sam dizzy, dizzier. For minutes, hours, Dean stumbled around the room, a hand running through his hair. He always did that when he was anxious, Sam had seen him do it before. Sam relaxed, he couldn't watch Dean anymore it was making him feel sick. Dizzy and sick. 

There was a warm cloth, Sam could feel it being wrapped around his wrist. It might have been wet, Sam couldn't quite tell if it was with water of with blood. He didn't look down to find out. Dean used Sam's arm to pull him up, Sam was staring straight at Dean. The room behind him was moving, spinning, dancing, but Dean was there and he was static. 

"What the Hell were you thinking, Sam!" Dean yelled. He sounded upset. "You nearly died, Sammy. Do you even get that. This, killing yourself, it's not an option - okay? Sammy. Sam can you hear me?" Sam must have grumbled some kind of response because Dean continued.

"Look man, I get this life ain't easy for you, Hell on a bad day it ain't easy for me either, but this is not the way to handle it. You get that right? You're sixteen and - and you've got your whole life ahead of you, buddy, what you feel now, it's gonna pass. And I need you, man. You think I'd be half as happy without you here beside my side. I love you Sammy, and I can't do this without you."

Sam looked up, looked at his big brother, looked at the desperate expression on his face. 

"'M sorry, Dee," Sam whispered, as much as he could do. He'd never felt this weak in his life.

"Don't be sorry, Sammy, just don't do this again," Dean muttered. He pulled Sam into a hug, holding onto his brother like letting go meant Sam dying. The pressure was released from Sam's wrist, but Sam guessed it didn't really matter because it was barely bleeding anymore. 

"Are you gonna tell Dad?" Sam asked. He didn't want his Dad to know, didn't want him to see Sam fail didn't want him realise what he'd done.

"Yeah," Dean replied. Sam began to protest but Dean silenced him by tightening the hug. "Don't, Sam, I've got to tell him. Maybe, maybe we can get you the help you need that way. God, you deserve better than this."

"What?" Sam questioned.

"It doesn't matter," Dean smiled a broken smile. "Do you feel tired? You should sleep, you sleep and I'll call Dad, alright?" It wasn't a question, not a suggestion or a request. It was an order, but Sam didn't have it in him to fight. He laid back.

The problem wasn't going to go away, Sam still didn't want to be alive. But maybe, with Dean by his side, he could fight it.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I know some of the language that Dean uses is unhelpful - telling someone who is suicidal that it will upset you if they die is a bad way to stop them and just create unnecessary guilt. But I feel like this is the way Dean would deal with it.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this. Please leave a comment or a kudos if you did
> 
> This is unbeta'd and any mistakes are mine
> 
> If you wanna hit me up, message me on my tumblr [ benevolentsam](http://benevolentsam.tumblr.com)


End file.
